


I’ll Take The Bullet Through My Teeth

by sonicsora



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Affection, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Secrets, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener & Peter Parker are Siblings, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Mid-Canon, Murder, Not Canon Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Not Ironman 3 Canon Compliant, Past Brainwashing, Past Torture, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22921396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: As of December 21st, 2001, The Winter Soldier disappeared into the backwoods of Rose Hill Tennessee. His mission was successful, but he never returned to his handlers. HYDRA could never recover their asset. Every lead comes up empty with only a whisper of the weapon's presence.BuckyBarnesCoury is a single father with smarter than average twin sons to deal with. Now that the boys are getting older, they are more questions than answers he can give them. He's doing what he can to make things work, even if he's not quite who or what he used to be.Even if he has to keep the Avengers and HYDRA from finding his family or finding out just who he really is. He's disappeared once, he'll do it again if it means his sons are safe.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Harley Keener, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers
Comments: 32
Kudos: 146





	1. It’s not goodnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinkerSpark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinkerSpark/gifts).



> enjoy me aggressively changing and or ignoring timelines for my own enjoyment.

_The crunch of his boots moving through the tightly packed snow on the ground felt almost deafening. Even as the wind picked up, he could really only hear his boots as he took each step carefully. The sirens felt so distant, so dim against his own footsteps. He can smell a fire in the distance. The wind is carrying the smoke, feeding the fire as it devours everything in its path._

_The silence is only punctured by the gurgling start of fussing from the bundle tucked against his chest. His gaze drops down to the scrunched up face of the infant he’s carrying. The bundles of blankets the infant is swaddled in isn’t enough against the bitter cold. He draws the child closer against his chest._

_He feels himself draw to a stop before something from The Before makes him slowly start to rock the child._

_His own voice doesn’t feel like his own. It’s used so rarely these days, his voice rasps as he speaks. “It’s okay. It’ll be alright.” The rough motion eventually becomes more natural as his muscle memory kicks in. “S’alright. I’m here.” With enough rocking and assurances, the infant settles, but squints at him with large brown eyes. He opens his jacket enough to tuck the infant inside of it, leaving the outer layer unzipped enough so the child doesn’t suffocate._

_He shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep._

_He drops the thought as soon as it rises to the surface. It presses too tightly against his skull, beating against training that screams at him to go back. He has accomplished his mission. He’s finished what he needs to do. This, this is a distraction. A distraction his handlers will be rid of._

_He starts shuffling forward. He gets his feet back under him, slow, steady. He needs to leave. He needs to finish his mission and forget._

_Only the sound of crying brings him to a stop. It’s more distant. He stares at a house that’s fallen apart, crushed under the chaos. The building is half collapsed at this point, fallen onto one side, crumbled into a pickup truck._

_The Winter Soldier finds himself drawn towards it, pawing through loose wood and debris. He follows the crying, digging with his hands almost desperately when the crying almost drops off._

_He reaches out when he sees the baby. His metal fingertips drift across the child’s forehead gingerly. The small face scrunches up at the chill of his fingertips, going a deeper shade of red._

The dream bursts within moments as two familiar weights crash down on him like a wave. “Daddy!” One boy crows delightedly, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky groans a little, squinting at the barrage of kisses that rain down over him. The two toddlers if anything are relentless. “Boys, boys-” He finally manages to sit up, all but hauling Peter up with him. The brunette boy giggles as his twin slide into Bucky’s lap to cling to him as well. 

“Daddy, up time now!” 

Bucky just blows out a laugh, “Why and _how_ are you two awake?” He only plucks Peter from his neck so he can hug both boys at once. Bucky isn’t surprised when the two clamors to cling to him, babbling excitedly about snow. He’s not sure why they’re so excited about snow, but he doesn’t want to dampen their interest too much. 

“Alright, alright, we’ll see snow, first breakfast.” He earns an excited cheer from both boys. Their enthusiasm is more than infectious as the man finds himself smiling back at both of them. Bucky hefts both boys up without issue into his arms as he slides out of the bed. He pads out of his bedroom, forging slippers to feel the old wood against his bare feet. The creak of the wood and chill it brings to his skin is grounding. A reminder he’s actually here. 

He sways with the two as he walks down the hall, a little laugh rippling up and out of him as Peter presses a sloppy toddler kiss against his chin. Harley is quick to follow suit, giving his twin a peck on the face as well. Peter giggles at that, slinging his arms around Harley now. The two just fall into giggling with each other. Their apartment isn’t much, it never will be, but it’s home for now. It’s small, so the walk to the kitchen is a short one. 

He comes to a stop in the kitchen, moving to deposit each twin in their respective chairs. Bucky is a little glad he was too tired to take the booster seats off the chairs yesterday. Peter sits up properly, placing his hands against the table top. Harley just kicks his legs out laughing at nothing in particular. 

“I see you’re both excited about snow. Did you dream about snow?” He questions, finding it easy to make idle conversation with the toddlers as he walks over to the fridge. As the two have gotten older, he’s learned well enough they’re smarter than he is at times. Every doctor he’s talked to tells him the twins are advanced for their age. He can tell by how quickly they pick things up. 

“Yes!” Harley all but hollars loudly back. Volume control has never been easy for him. Bucky is fairly sure if he actually put them in a real school in the future Harley would hate it. “I had the best dream! Snow everywhere!” 

“Inside voice, baby.” 

Harley pauses, blue eyes wide before he whispers, “Yes.” 

“That's too inside.” Peter offers, “Insidiest.” 

“I don’t think that’s a word, Petey.” He says it distractedly as he pulls out the egg carton, setting on the countertop nearby. It’s joined by some vegetables he needs to use alongside a bag of cheese. Nothing makes him happier than the fact the twins aren't picky about eating vegetables. If there is enough cheese and ketchup, they'll eat it.

“Insidiest.” Harley echoes readily, quick to support his twin at any given chance. “Peter makes all the best words.” Bucky doesn’t need to look to understand the boys are smiling at each other like they’ve discovered a secret. 

“I suppose it was the ‘Insidiest’ you could go.” Bucky muses, knowing logically he shouldn’t encourage it, but he delights in the giggling it earns. 

“We’re doing omelettes, how much ketchup do you want?” He already has an inkling of the answer, but asking is always worth doing. 

Harley’s voice takes on a grave edge as he leans forward, “All.” It just makes his brother giggle in turn, “Every!” Peter adds helpfully. 

“That’s a tall order.” Bucky states idly back, moving to nudge the fridge closes with his hip. He drifts over to the cupboard to rifle around for the right pan. “Can we settle on some?” 

“Daddy, every ketchups!” 

“All ketchup!” 

“Some?” He offers back with a quirk of his brow as he glances at the two. He’s gotten the pan set out atop the stove. He pops open the egg carton, a little relieved there are a decent amount of eggs. Once the snow clears up enough he needs to go shopping. 

Harley scrunches up his nose, as if making the world's greatest compromise. “Suppose if we only have some.” 

“Some is okay.” Peter echoes, squirming a little in his seat. Whilst Harley is loud and wants attention, Peter is a squirmy child. Sitting still isn’t his specialty. A stuffed animal or toy usually keeps him from getting too antsy. “Daddy, can I have Bear-Bear?” 

“Sure, baby, gimme a sec.” He checks to make sure the fire isn’t on before moving away from the stove. “Do you want anything too, Harley?” 

“Purple Cat.” It’s an easy answer, but Bucky would rather ask than bring the wrong stuffed animal to breakfast. He’s committed that sin once, never again. Bucky moves over to the table to plant two quick kisses against the boy’s foreheads. “Stay there, okay?” 

“Mmkay.” Peter smiles up at him, happy for affection. Harley just squints at him, wiggling his legs for emphasis as he states plainly. “I can’t get down, daddy.” 

“Short legs.” Peter offers back as if it's a complete thought. Harley nods solemnly, on the same page. “Short legs.” 

“You’ll have long legs soon enough, honey.” Bucky promises easily enough as he turns away to head back down the hall into the boy’s bedroom. He plucks up the stuffed animals in question. The two toddlers squeal at sight of their familiar toys, taking easy joy in being handed them. Peter squeezes Bear-Bear close, only to swap for Purple Cat with Harley at some point by the time Bucky peeks back at them while he cooks. 

Bucky easily falls into the regular morning routine thereafter. Breakfast is made, ketchup is heavily applied to everything the boys eat. They clean up from ketchup splashes. Everyone huddles into the bathroom to brush their teeth. Hair is brushed to the best of anyone's ability. Bucky is still learning how to brush out curls. Somehow he ended up with two kids with wild untamable curls. Everyone changes out of pajamas for day clothes. 

Given the boys want to go outside and stomp around in the snow, Bucky ends up layering them up heavily as he can. Peter is all but squirming in place at another layer, his tiny face peering out at Bucky from under his knitted cap. Bucky knows that look means a riot is going to happen if he doesn’t get them moving. Even then, Bucky doesn’t want to skimp on bundling the two up. Peter especially is more prone to getting sick than his brother. 

“Can Purple Cat come?” Harley questions sitting on the couch, he squeezes his favorite toy against his chest. 

“Purple Cat would get cold, I think she’d want to stay inside.” 

Harley considers that, turning the toy to face him. There is some unspoken conversation between toy and toddler before Harley nods. “Purple Cat likes being warm.” 

“So does Bear-Bear.” Peter offers from under a scarf that's been wrapped around him. He drops his voice to something conspiratorial. “I don’t think she likes snow.” 

Harley gives an affronted noise. 

“Some people don’t have to like snow.” Bucky offers idly, rising from his crouch in front of Peter. “Ready to go?” 

The chorus of excited yeses is enough to make Bucky snort. Harley scrambles off the couch, leaving Purple Cat where she’s lain to grab onto one of Bucky’s hands. Peter toddles over to grab onto Harley’s free hand. Bucky leads them to the front door, pausing as he looks down at the two.“We’re just going to go out into the yard outside the building. Then we’ll come back up.” 

“Playground?” Peter questions back up at him. 

“Too slippery and wet.” If it wasn’t as snowy outside, Bucky would have contemplated walking them down the way to the playground. “I could fall. I’d lose my other arm.” 

The two children seem horrified at the idea. Peter gasps a little as his free hand flies to his mouth. “ _No_!” 

“Daddy, you need both arms!” 

“I like your meaty arm.” Harley throws in hurriedly, clinging to Bucky’s hand desperately. “Did the snow take your other one?” 

He almost says ‘yes’ before shaking his head, “It was an accident a long time ago, but now you know why we can’t go to the playground.” 

“Steals arms.” Peter sounds more disapproving than a three-year-old should. “Theft is bad.” Bucky just snorts softly, trying to not let his amusement show too obviously as he leads the two out of the apartment. 

The chill is bitter, but he’s bundled the children up enough there aren’t any complaints about it. They manage to get down a few of the steps leading to the next floor before Bucky just picks them both up. 

He tries to explain snowball fights to the twins with little success. Neither quite understand the competition aspect just yet. Both hold onto Bucky or each other as they walk around the enclosed ‘yard’ that the apartment complex has. 

Harley mostly just tries to make the biggest ball to throw over his head, which predictably means he gets hit in the head with a bunch of snow. He squawks indignantly, kicking the snow and scolding it. Bucky can’t really stop himself from laughing at Harley not learning the lesson the first three times. Harley just looks perplexed each and every time. 

Only when he manages to whack Peter with a snowball does it stick. Peter crying is usually enough for Harley to panic and start crying himself. Bucky bites back a groan. If he doesn’t do something he’s going to have two crying toddlers in a moment.

It takes Bucky pelting himself with snow to break the upset tension. The two toddlers break into laughter. Any lingering tension drops away immediately as the two move over towards him. 

“Daddy!” Peter reaches out for him, making grabby hands until he’s picked up. Small gloved hands swipe away at the snow. “Don’t snow yourself.” 

Bucky snorts somewhat, his lips pulling into a smile at the causal command from the toddler. “I’ll be sure not to from now on.”

Peter nods sagely, just pressing a kiss against Bucky’s nose. “Good!” 

— 

The crinkling of paper feels infinitely louder than it really should. Paired with the clunk of a crayon practically digging into the paper, Bucky can’t stop a brief snort from escaping him. He levels a slow look at the pair of chubby cheeked toddlers seated across from him at the table. After their little snow adventure he thought they would tire out, but he didn’t quite get that luxury today. 

Harley’s expression is a fairly focused one, small fingers clutching tightly onto the body of the crayon in his grasp. Peter in contrast is more placid, more lazily scribbling across the page. They’ve done a little bit of math, nothing very intensive but the two have a strong grasp on numbers already. 

“Having fun drawing, Harley?” 

The question makes the blonde boy’s head snap up from his crinkled paper, a grin spreading across his features. His tongue all but pokes out of the gap between his teeth. 

“Yeah!” He drops the crayon, it rolls off to the side bumping into Peter’s elbow on the table. The brunette blinks but rights the crayon without a word adding it back to the haphazard stack of crayons that has taken over the middle of the table. “Look, look!” Harley lifts the picture up, turning it to face Bucky. At best it looks like a series of colorful hell scribbles Bucky cannot decipher. 

Harley thankfully fills in the blank by excitedly chattering. He wiggles the paper aggressively at Bucky as he explains every detail. Harley if anything has a gift to speak and uses it without hesitation. 

Bucky nods, smiling back at his toddler. “It looks great, baby. I really like how you drew the dog.” 

Harley puffed up at that, “Petey! Look!” He slides the paper towards his brother. Peter blinks out of his own doodling to peer at the paper. A smile breaks out over his face. “I like it! I like this kitty.” He reaches out to point at a specific shape. Harley just puffs up more so, “Yeah! I like that kitty lots too!” 

Of course the boys could understand each other's artwork perfectly. Bucky finds some mild amusement in that much as he shakes his head a little. 

“How about you, Petey? Having fun drawing? What did you draw?” 

Peter lips curl upwards into a grin as well as he looks up at his dad away from Harley’s drawing. “Mhm. Lots of fun. I’m drawing… um, weird horse.” He only pauses to try and find the right word. 

Bucky just pauses, brows knitting together. “Weird horse?” 

“You said it was a weird horse.” Peter states plainly back, “The lady in the pink had a weird horse.” The memory makes Harley giggle a little. He looks at his brother’s drawing, understanding immediately. “Weird horse!” 

It took Bucky a moment before he realizes what Peter means, he stifles a laugh that wants to bubble up and out of him. Apparently the boys had heard him muttering about the ugliest dog in the world when they were out shopping. “Baby, that was a dog.” 

“Horse.” Peter says smoothly, turning his paper over to show what are also odd shapes. Bucky can kind of see what Peter was trying to do, kind of. 

“Horse!” Harley echoed eagerly, still giggling. “Weird Horse!” 

Bucky debates whether he should try to correct this, or if it’ll even _stick_ given the two pick up everything he doesn’t want them to. “It’s a very good drawing of that dog, Petey.” 

“Horse.” Harley quickly corrects as he reaches out to grab another crayon. “Daddy, you said it was one.” Of course, the one time they intently listen is when he’s talking under his breath. 

“Looks like I did.” He manages after a pause, already knowing this is a losing battle against two three year olds. Any attempt at correction will fall completely flat. “Those are just very weird dogs to me.” 

“All dogs are weird, but full of love.” Harley says sagely in turn. 

\---

The boys' fascination with snow continues for the rest of the week, but they aren’t quite as keen on going out every day into the snow. There is primarily two toddlers sitting by the biggest window of the apartment peering out at the snow with varying levels of interest and suspicion. 

Peter and Harley are decidedly less keen on snow when they have to go shopping. Bucky ends up with two very cranky toddlers by the end of the trip. 

He has never been so happy to distract them with a new coloring book and the TV playing in the background. Neither boy is old enough to understand how to change the channels. Bucky peers in as he unpacks here and there, relieved the cartoons are mostly animals chasing one another with weaponry. 

He’s missed a lot of time, but apparently the shorts that used to play in front of features kept some familiar qualities about them. He drifts back fully into the kitchen, unpacking the vegetables, lunch meat, and eggs. He is working on finding the loaf of bread in the shopping bags. If he’s lucky he can make a sandwich for the two and get them ready for an actual nap. 

“Daddy!” The sound of Harley’s footsteps precede the boy as he all but rushes towards the kitchen. His socked feet slide on the tiles, but the boy corrects himself fairly steadily. “Daddy!” 

“Yes, honey?” He looks down as the boy all but collides with his legs. Harley buries his face against Bucky’s leg for a moment just holding on. The clinging is sure enough sign Harley at least isn’t cranky anymore. 

“Dadddyyyy.” Harley eventually looks up through the wild array of blonde curls. “Can Petey and I watch a movie?” Harley pauses for a moment, “Please?” Bucky is willing to let it go given Harley actually remembered the word please.

“Sure, which movie?” 

The boy wrinkles his nose a little. He’s attempting to think it over. “Mer...maid? Ariel!” 

“Sure, baby.” He reaches a hand down to ruffle Harley's hair somewhat. "Ariel it is." There wasn’t going to be much of an argument over the movie choice, given Peter was fascinated by Ariel’s bright red hair. 

Harley grins back up at him, resting his chin against Bucky’s leg. “Do you like Ariel?” 

“She seems very nice.” Bucky barely remembered a damn thing about the movie beyond the boys loudly singing over it every time. They didn’t understand or really know how to say half of the words. Ariel seemed like a dumb broad over all, but, he wasn’t exactly that invested in the movie. 

“She’s pretty.” Harley says conversationally whilst still holding onto Bucky’s leg, “Can I be that pretty when I’m bigger?” 

He can’t help but smile at that, “You already are, baby.” Harley buries his face against Bucky’s leg again before giggling as his father picks him up. 

“You and Petey are very pretty.” He reaffirms simply as he heads back to the living room. Bucky has the feeling if he doesn’t fold Peter in, there will be a toddler sized riot in his living room. 

Harley just giggles a little more, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck. He’s only proven correct by Harley’s eager response. “Yeah! We’re both pretty!” His gaze lands on his brother who is still coloring his designated page. “Peter! We’re pretty!” 

Peter blinks looking up at that, confused for only a second before stating plainly. “I know.” 

Bucky can’t stop himself from laughing at that. “Good.” He sets Harley down on the couch in his spot before scooping Peter up to deposit him next to Harley. “Daddy’s going to put Ariel on, and make you two some lunch.” He explains idly before moving to shuffle through the four DVD’s they own. The Little Mermaid’s case is the one that smells most like peanut butter at this point.

“Whats lunch?” Peter questions, Bucky can hear him squirming around a little to settle down. By the time Bucky turns around the twins are cuddling up. Harley has tucked his head against Peter’s shoulder. 

“Sandwiches.” He answers simply enough as he squints at the DVD case. Whenever they move he’ll hope the damn thing will air out. 

“Sand of wich.” 

“Sammies.” Peter echoes, “Good ones?” 

“Good ones.” Bucky knows that means turkey in Peter’s own language. Toddlers are if anything _picky_. “With chips.” 

“In sammie?” Harley questions skeptically as a three year old can. Harley doesn’t care what meat he has on a sandwich as long as it was full of potato chips. 

“In sammie.” Bucky vaguely wonders as he gets the ancient DVD player working if anyone outside of his bubble of three would understand half of the conversations he had if it was overheard. Not likely.

\--

He blows some of his hair out of his face, eyes narrowing as he looks at the snow cloaked landscape. The flurry of snow means he can’t see much of anything all that clearly. Every instinct in his body is screaming for him to be on high alert. 

Old anxiety creeps along his spine as he pushes himself forward down the sidewalk. His boots keep him steady as he moves further away from the shopping area. The rustling of the plastic bags moving against one another doesn’t do much to calm Bucky any. 

He knew it was a bad day when he left the damn house, but the paranoia is only getting worse the longer he’s here. Five months in a single place feels wrong. 

He needs to move somewhere without snow. Maybe California. The boys would probably like that much better. The warm weather would mean more playtime outside and even learning to swim. 

He clicks his teeth together impatiently as he hurries his walk to get back to the apartment building. He’s really the only one out on foot at this point, so the sidewalk is his to walk across. He hates leaving the boys, much less leaving them with any neighbors, but he couldn’t take them out in this weather. Neither child could cope with how cold it is. 

His mind spins on contingency plans the entire walk back to the building. He trudges up the stairwell, letting the plastic bags slide down his arm as he comes up to his level on the apartment building. 

He raps his knuckles against the neighbor’s door waiting before repeating the gesture. It takes a moment before the door opens. The neighbor, a chubby young woman smiles brightly back at him. Her dimples show every time she smiles, her name is Penelope, she’s slow when walking. She would be easy enough to get rid of. 

“Mr. Coury, I’m glad you’re back in one piece. I was starting to worry.” She opens the door a little wider for him, she only takes her eyes off of him to turn back and call into her apartment. Bucky knows if he needed to, he could kill her with a quick motion. He had his pocket knife on him, he could slit her throat so very easily. “Boys! Your father is back!” 

Did she have men hidden in her house waiting for him? Did they take his children? Did Hydra do something to his sons? Was this a long con for Hydra to steal his sons? 

The sound of small feet stampeding forward is enough to ease him somewhat as Peter and Harley all but throw themselves past the neighbor onto his legs. Both are chattering at him about what they did with Penelope. At worst it sounds like she taught some very strange children’s games. 

Bucky reaches down to ruffle both of their hair. Harley catches his hand at the ruffling sticking his tongue back out at Bucky. 

“Thank you for watching them, Penelope.” He says easily enough. He manages to sound personable and easy going. “I appreciate it.” 

“It’s no problem.” She waves it off, giggling a little as the boys cling to Bucky’s legs, “They’re _soooo_ sweet!” 

He nods at that, moving to pick both boys up without much thought. He holds the two close, just relieved they are both okay. “Thanks again.” 

The woman bids him goodbye without much fanfare, that much Bucky appreciates about her. She doesn’t try to drag things on to be social. She lets things be. Bucky isn’t even sure what he’d do if he had to pretend anymore. 

Bucky only really relaxes once he’s back in his own apartment with the boys in tow. He sinks into the couch with both of them still in his arms. 

“Daddy, is it a bad day?” Peter questions as he cuddles into Bucky’s chest. 

“Mhm.” He can’t exactly lie to his kid. He’s taught them to give him space when his brain isn’t working the way it should.

“Quiet time for daddy.” Harley murmurs lowly, pressing a kiss against Bucky’s cheek. Bucky just holds onto the two for a moment or two longer before settling them down on the couch. 

“Daddy will set up a movie for you, and some snacks. Then I’m going to lay down.” 

“Okay.” Peter swings his legs a little off of the edge of the couch. “We’ll be quiet, daddy.” 

“If you need anything or someone comes to the door, get me.” He states simply back, both boys nod at that. They know what to do by now on his bad days. 

He gets what he needed to buy put away, hangs up the plastic bags and goes through the motions of getting the boys situated. The movie is playing, their toys and games are out around them, they have food to eat. He gives both a peck on the forehead before trudging down the hall to his bedroom. Bucky ends up just laying on the floor, just staring at the faded wood paneling of the floorboards. 

He picks out the loose ones by sight alone, knowing which ones he’s hidden weapons under. His mind is running a mile a minute and he can’t keep his thoughts particularly settled. Bad memories meld with the rising tide of paranoia. The urge to fortify the apartment is a strong one that he has to tamp down on.

Two hours later he manages to peel himself up from the floor to change into dry clothing. He drops the soaked clothing into the hamper by his bed without much thought. His shoes end up kicked aside as he stands barefoot on the floor. He ends up on his knees to check his cache. All five guns and four knives are present. He gets the floorboard back firmly in place before he rises once again. 

He lurches back to the living room. Both boys are curled up on the couch together with their stuffed animals. 

Both boys immediately reach out for him as soon as they see him. Bucky is happy to scoop them up into his arms. He sinks back onto the couch to help them finish watching the current animated movie they’ve grown fond of. Something with lions involved. He’s not entirely sure, and he doesn’t take in much of the information provided. It is all meaningless sounds that just fills the apartment to some extent.

He’s only really paying attention to the wind rattling the apartment’s window panes as the storm grows worse outside, and the boys’ steady breathing. 

Peter squirms in his grasp to kiss his chin. Harley follows suit readily as both curl into him. 

\--

He settles on a town in the middle of nowhere in California. Somewhere nondescript where he’ll fade into the background without much issue. Somewhere the boys can enjoy the good weather for a few months. The idea of staying somewhere too long just makes his skin itch. 

He rides out the next two months of his lease before he starts packing everything. He knows moving with two toddlers isn’t going to be easy, but he’d rather start moving now before he gets too comfortable. 

Harley and Peter chatter excitedly as they ‘help’ in packing. At best they slow Bucky’s progress down, but he doesn’t mind too much. This is really the first time they’ve been active participants in moving. Normally he sets them somewhere nearby in sight and does the work. Now the two are curiously trying to figure out how to fit everything into boxes. 

He’s managed to compact their already small life into a handful of boxes and a truck. He pays in cash directly. He makes sure there isn’t a trail in his wake. He’s just a single father, nothing really memorable to keep in ones mind. 

“What’s California like, daddy?” Harley questions as he peers out of the car window. The landscape shifts and changes around them as Bucky drives. 

“Very green.” Bucky muses, trying to remember something that isn’t related to some kind of assassination. His memories are fleeting pieces that never quite fit together. All he draws to the surface is the feeling of the sun beating down against his back as he pulls the trigger. 

“How green?” Peter questions in turn. “The greenest?” 

“Almost.” 

“Is Greenland the greenest?” 

Bucky’s brows pinch together at Harley’s question. “Where did you hear about Greenland?” 

“The TV. Man on TV talked about it.” 

Bucky grunts a little at Harley’s explanation, “Huh.” He can’t discourage the two from learning, even if they keep out classing him in places. He’s fairly sure his kids are smarter than he was at that age. 

“What is it like?” Peter repeats more loudly this time from his spot next to Harley. 

“There are big trees called palm trees.” Bucky starts, trying to list off positive-ish things he does remember. It's all disconnected and strange. Neither boy complain about it, only asking more questions as the drive continues. 

The first pit stop is a few cities over, Bucky makes sure both boys go to the bathroom before he feeds them cheap fast food. Once they’re situated back in the moving van they fall asleep fairly easily. He drives the next few hours without issue. 

He only pulls over to take a leak. He makes it as quick as he can, given the boys are sleeping. The gas station is dark, dreary and the stars are brighter than the actual lights overhead. The place is all but abandoned, but it's a quiet spot to take a piss. 

He emerges and sees a lean man underdressed for the weather trying to break into the back of the moving van without any real success. A quiet anger simmers under his skin as he strides forward. His babies are sleeping in that van. If anything happens to his babies he’ll make the man regret it. 

The lean man doesn’t even notice his approach. 

The switchblade finds its place in his palm. Metal fingers flip it open with a practiced ease. 

“You better go.” He tells the man lowly as he comes up behind him. The thief goes stiff, startling as he whips around to stare at Bucky wide eyed. “Before you lose that option.” 

The man sputters openly scowling back at Bucky, “Fuck you! I saw it first!” Bravado is the man’s mistake. He tries to take a swing at Bucky. The punch itself is sluggish, sloppy in a way that speaks of desperation. The man is clearly riding some kind of high, enough of one he isn’t thinking all that clearly. 

Bucky ducks under it, using his free hand to grab the man by the front of the shirt. He throws the man forward to get him away from the van, from the boys. The man stumbles before coming at Bucky with another punch to close the distance between them. At best he grazes Bucky’s shoulder, nearly slamming into the van itself. 

The man tries to grab at Bucky’s hair, swearing at the weapon of a man. “I saw this van first! I saw it! It’s mine! I get what’s inside!” He rambles loudly. Loudly enough Bucky is half afraid it’ll wake up the twins. 

An annoyed sound escapes Bucky as he grabs the man by the back of the shirt and throws him onto the ground. He forgets his actual strength in the moment. He manages to knock the air out of the man entirely from the throw and landing alone. 

Bucky doesn’t hesitate to bring his boot down on the man’s chest, pinning him in place. He points the switchblade down at the man. The sight of the blade is enough to make the man go wild eyed in pure panic. 

“I told you to go. You lost that chance.” Bucky intones cooly. 

\--

Peter yawns, loudly squirming under the blanket pile that his and Harley’s shared seat in the van had turned into. Harley is still out cold curled against his brother. “Daddy-?” 

“Yeah, baby?” Bucky doesn’t look up from driving as he feels Peter’s tiny hands grab onto the sleeve of his shirt. 

“What time is it?” 

“Sleepy time.” 

The toddler gives a grumbly sound at that, “M’hungry.” 

“When we pull over, we’ll have a snack and you can go back to sleep.” 

“Mhmmkay.” Peter relents without much of a problem. “Daddy, did you change into your jammies?” 

“Mhm, figured I should be cozy for a bit.” He couldn’t quite get the blood out of the jacket completely. A bit more scrubbing would do the job. “You and Harley are very cozy.”

“It's cuddly time.” Peter agrees with another yawn. Bucky half suspects Peter will just fall back asleep in a few moments at this rate. For now the boy is curious and blearily aware. “What’s the snack?” 

“Chips and crackers.” 

“Cheese?” 

“Yes. Orange cheese.” Bucky had no idea why the future had so many types of cheese, but, it had more than enough he had no idea how to explain it to his toddlers. Sometimes the future was stupid. 

“That's the best cheese.” 

“It sure is, baby.” Bucky agrees as he briefly glances back at Peter, “Go back to sleep, and I’ll wake you up for snacks.” 

Peter squints at him from under his sleep rumpled curls for a moment before he relents. “Kay.” 

“Love you, Petey.” 

“Love you too, daddy.” The boy answers before yawning again. He shifts back under the blankets, curling up with Harley and their stuffed animal pile amidst the blankets. 

He wakes them up a few hours later for their morning snack before breakfast. Harley blearily eats crackers and cheese with Peter. The two children end up falling back asleep for the next twenty minutes. Both end up waking up by the time he actually pulls through to an actual restaurant.

Harley and Peter giggle about their daddy being in pajamas as he gets breakfast from the drive-through. Bucky just snorts fondly at the teasing from the two. "Its pajama day, we're all allowed to wear them outside of the house." He offers casually. His mind wanders to his jacket in the back of the van, planning to scrub it a bit more after the two fall asleep again.

"Pajama day!" Harley crows loudly back. 

"Cozy time!" Peter answers in turn as he claps his hands. 

The two inhale their tater tots and children’s breakfast whilst talking a mile a minute about what California will be like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 'wowie this sure is a thing'. I have no idea how to describe this, beyond it being a very niche thing written for myself and a friend. Its fluff and suffering!
> 
> We hunger for Harley and Peter to be brothers, but also Bucky happiness.


	2. By space around that should be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, shenanigans and tater tots!
> 
> Next chapter, California!

He grunts disapprovingly as he dusts his hands off best he can without getting any more blood on his clothes. He stares down at the man laid out on the ground before him. 

Bucky knows it's a risk to stop by shadier places to rest for the night, but Bucky can’t afford a hotel regularly. He wants to try and save money for _actual_ meals during the day. He wants to feed his kids. He’d happily live off of little, but he won’t do that to his own children. 

A man trying to mug him on the side of the road was at least helpful in one regard. 

He picks through the man's wallet absently, fishing out the paper money. He moves to easily pitch the wallet deeper into the snow-covered field away from the body. His metal arm and aim ensures it won’t be found for months if it doesn’t get dragged off even further by animals because of the blood that’s in the process of soaking its way through the leather. 

He makes a point to bury the man in several layers of snow before he ambles back over to the moving truck. He fishes the keys out of his pocket to unlock it. 

“Daddy-?” Harley questions sleepily as the door opens. Bucky can’t stop himself from smiling a little at the bundled toddler peering at him from under several layers of blankets. Peter is fast asleep next to him, snoring softly. Usually, both of them sleep like the dead, but clearly, Harley had noticed his absence. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Why leave?” Harley’s blonde eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. 

“I had to go to the bathroom. I’m all done now.” It wasn’t technically a lie, given he needed a damn piss after driving so many hours. 

The excuse is enough to make the curious toddler seem to settle back down again. Harley yawns, eyes starting to droop. “Wash your hands.” Is slurred by the drowsy child before he starts to fall asleep where he’s seated. Bucky chuckles lowly at that, eying his blood-covered hands.

“Thanks for reminding me, honey.” He grabs the water bottle tucked near the steering wheel to wash his hands off. He washes the car door handles off as well to be completely sure it doesn't stand out. The rusty metal means no one will really see it, but he wants to be safe rather than sorry. He has to return the truck when he’s done with it. 

\----

“Don’t get too used to this kind of food.” Bucky warns idly as he spreads tater tots across a paper plate next to the most lackluster mac and cheese he had ever eaten in his life. If he wasn’t feeling as paranoid he would’ve actually found a damn denny's to eat at. He would prefer to sit at a table and eat something that isn’t this level of bullshit. 

Harley tilted his head somewhat as he picked up another ketchup soaked tater tot to shove into his mouth. “Why?” He questioned mid-chew, dribbling ketchup down his chin. Bucky without much thought picks up a napkin and wipes the toddler’s chin. It's futile given Harley is eating, but the instinct remains. 

“Home soon?” Peter questions curiously in turn. His own face is just as ketchup-y. He slurps at the kids sized drink Bucky ordered from the drive-through. 

“Very soon. We have a new home we’re going to.” 

Peter hums in thought, slurping at his apple juice. “Snow?” 

“No more snow for a long while after this, baby.” Bucky spares the fogged up moving van window a glance. They have yet to really break past the states in the snowiest of areas. He intends to drive through it soon enough. 

“Mmmkay.” Harley drops a tater tot into ketchup once again, swirling it around with the finesse one can expect of a toddler. It leaves his fingertip sticky and stained red. “Snow is really cold, daddy.” 

“It is. We won’t see it for a long while.”

“Good, it steals arms.” Peter offers in turn before reaching out to grab a french fry and tater tot to shove into his mouth. “Mean.” 

“The meanest.” Bucky confirms casually as he spoons some macaroni into his mouth. He chews slowly, trying to get any kind of flavor beyond bland fake cheese. He’s going to crack open his cookbook after this and cook everything he possibly could. 

Peter sips his juice, squirming deeper into the blanket pile he’s settled in before looking up at Bucky. “We sleeping here?” 

“Not today, baby. We’re going to stay in a hotel.” With the temperatures dropping so low, Bucky isn’t going to risk sleeping in the moving van with his kids. If he was just alone, he wouldn’t have cared. He’s handled worse in his long life. HYDRA made sure of that much. His children deserve to be comfortable and secure. 

Harley perked up, sucking on his ketchup stained fingers for a moment before he speaks. “No bouncing on bed?” Bucky snorts somewhat, arching a brow back at the boy. Harley was always quick to try and find loopholes.

“No bouncing on bed. The rule doesn’t change from hotel to hotel, baby.” 

Harley whines at that, “But I wanna bounce!”

Peter as always is quick to parrot his brother’s point, even if he’s more invested in his apple juice. “Bounce!” 

Harley kicks his legs out angrily, expression screwing up into a scowl. Bucky knew a tantrum was going to happen sooner rather than later. “Bounce!”

“No.” Bucky states pointedly back, “No bouncing. When I get you your own beds, you can bounce.” 

“Wanna bounce now!” Harley reaches out to throw the tater tots, but his target is picked up by Bucky. Harley is openly flummoxed by the sudden disappearance of the plate, but it doesn’t stop him from whining. “Daddy! Now!”

“Not now.” Bucky’s response earns more whining and Harley tearing up more. Harley kicks his legs out, raising his small fists in the air and just hitting the moving truck unhappily. 

Peter just sucks down his apple juice, just watching the tantrum in motion. “Can I have tater tots?” 

“It’s Harley’s tater tots, baby.” Bucky sets the paper plate atop the dashboard out of reach of the toddlers. “When Harley is done crying, he can finish.” 

Peter looks to his brother, staring at Harley before stating plainly. “Imma eat your tots.” 

That did not help with the tantrum, but startles a laugh out of Bucky before he can stop it. He covers his face with a hand as he watches Harley spiral into a full-blown tantrum, which eventually sets Peter off. 

It turns lunchtime into a cuddle and calm downtime, but eventually, both toddlers settle enough to finish eating and drop off to sleep. The rest of the drive is spent with Bucky idly listening to whatever comes on the radio. 

\--

The fact both boys don’t immediately jump on the hotel beds is a, sure enough, sign he’s maybe done something right. The two giggle about it, but are clearly tired from a long day of driving. Bucky will take what victory he can. 

He’s exhausted and more than ready to try to get some rest. A lingering paranoia keeps him from relaxing just yet. Well, relaxing is a strong word given how on edge he feels in the moment, but the word works for now. 

He’s taken off his boots, hung up his jacket, and is warily picking over the room for any security flaws. He has a handgun within reach as well as a switchblade. He tucked both under his pillow, ready to pull them out as needed. 

If anyone tries to breach the room they’re in for a surprise. 

If the boys were a little younger still, he would’ve just slept fully dressed. Now they know the no shoes on the bed rule and he has to abide by it himself. 

Harley for his tantrum earlier in the day has settled into just curling up under the covers, watching TV as Peter half dozes on him. 

“Daddy-?” Harley peers up at him blearily, distracted from the cartoons flashing on the screen. 

“Daddy is checking over the room, honey.” He says easily enough, knowing his son isn’t going to question the explanation all that deeply. “Making sure it won’t be cold.” 

“Scare the cold away, Peter gets cold easy.” Harley hums in agreement, cuddling against his brother a little more. 

“I’ll do my best, baby.” He promises, closing the hotel curtains tightly together. He lifts up the chair from the nearby desk in the room to put against the door. He wedges it just right that it blocks the door handle from turning. He glances back in the direction of the two beds, not surprised to see Harley watching him still. The blonde boy has always been observant. Likely too observant at times. 

“Get some sleep, alright, Harley?” 

“Mhmm.” Harley hums sleepily back, tucking his face against Peter’s curls without much hesitation. The room is filled with the sound of the TV still playing, and Bucky doesn’t bother to turn it off. 

Bucky sleeps fitfully for the night, waking up every few hours to check on the twins and pick over the room. 

When Bucky does dream, he doesn’t particularly like any of the broken pieces that rise to the surface. Things that _are_ and aren't him. Things that will never be him again.

_"Sergeant Barnes…” Cold fingers press against his cheek, running their way across his throat. He stares straight ahead at a bespeckled man, seemingly frozen in place where he’s seated. He can't even seem to lift his hands where they're laid on the armrests._

_He can feel hands running along his body, pulling and prodding. All he can do is stare at the man, trying to put a name to what he’s seeing. He wants to ask just who this man is, but his words are caught in the back of his throat choking him. Every word starts to feel like broken chunks of ice digging into his throat._

_“It will hurt, but not for long.” The man promises with mild cheer. He smiles, and all Bucky can do is breathe heavily through his mouth. He nearly bites his tongue clean in two before hands force their way past his lips. His stomach rolls and the cold seeps into him all at once. Just as suddenly, he's all alone._

_¿ǝʌǝʇs_

\---

The obnoxious beeping of the alarm at the bedside table has never been more of a relief than in that moment. It cracks apart a dream, leaving just Bucky laying in the too small hotel bed under a thin sheet. 

Bucky twists where he lays, swatting it off with a casual gesture. His attention immediately shifts to the boy's bed. 

His relief amplifies as he sees his sons are curled up together. Harley glowered at the alarm with pure agitation written across his features. Peter all but whines, cuddling more deeply under the blankets. 

Bucky finds himself smiling as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“C’mon, boys, let's start moving.” 

“Five more minutes.” Is Harley’s idle protest as he drags the blanket more over himself and Peter. 

“If we don’t get going soon, we’re not gonna be able to have breakfast, baby.” He says easily enough, using the boy’s laziness to pull the gun and switchblade from under the pillow to stash into his jacket. 

“It's free breakfast downstairs.” He repeats, more moving around the room gathering everything together while the two three-year-olds huddle together. He manages to get the boys up and on their feet after a bit. 

Peter inhales a bowl of cereal whilst Harley shares a pastry with him. Bucky chokes down some cheap-ass coffee before leading the two towards the moving truck. 

They are almost out of snow country, he just needs to keep them moving.

\----

Peter clings to his hand, rocking absently on his heels as Bucky does his best to juggle a tray of food and the paper cups. Harley is holding onto Peter’s free hand, bright curious eyes watching other people walk by. 

The restaurant was a damn grease pit, but it was a place to eat and stretch their legs for a bit. Bucky wanted to make sure all of them ate outside of the moving truck more than once. 

“Daddy. Sit down?” 

“In a second, baby.” Bucky offers back easily enough, his gaze flicking up from the tray to eye the people moving past them. If there is one thing he’s glad of, it's the fact the boys weren’t interested in straying away from him just yet. “Daddy is trying to carry things.” 

“I can carry.” Harley offers quickly, a lilt of excitement rising to the surface. “I’m a big boy! I can help!” 

“I know you are.” Bucky confirms easily enough, “But, I want you to hold onto Petey.” 

Harley all but scoffs quietly. “I have two hands, daddy.” 

“Hold onto me twice.” Peter says easily, smiling brightly back at his twin. 

Bucky snorts a little, his lips quirking up somewhat. “Hold onto your brother twice.” He didn’t trust two toddlers with paper cups in a crowded restaurant just yet. The less attention on them the better. His sons having a meltdown would be hard to miss. The twins always set each other off when it came to tantrums. 

His gaze flicks towards a table being cleared off nearby by one of the employees. The man in an unflattering red uniform and baseball cap is loading loose garbage into a plastic tub.

Bucky knows he needs to get there before it’s grabbed by other people trying to find seats. He’s hardly the only one waiting for something to open up. The seating outside wasn’t exactly highly sought after given the weather. The threat of snow was hanging over everything even now. 

He catches sight of a woman eying the table as well. Bucky narrows his eyes a little. The woman’s gaze flicks from the table to him, apparently feeling his gaze on her. Bucky arches his brows back at her, daring the woman to try and take the table. She balks a little, backing off a little bit and diverting her gaze. The employee picks up the tub, walking away after cleaning off the table. 

Harley seems to contemplate the comment, reaching his second hand to hold onto the edge of Peter’s sweater. “Twice.” 

“Good, thank you.” Bucky says softly back, smiling at the twins before he leads the way towards the newly freed table. He makes eye contact in passing with the woman again, offering her a thin-lipped smile. He maintains eye contact with her until he puts the tray down. He slides two loose sheets of paper out of under it. He’ll let the boys pick out which crayons they want to use. He has a feeling Harley will gravitate towards pink whilst Peter will pluck up the blue crayon.

“Alright, get settled.” He says easily to the twins. “We’re gonna eat, color, and then go back on the road.” 

He doles out the paper cups to the two boys. Harley only lets go of Peter to scramble up onto the booth seat by himself. Peter moves readily to follow his twin up onto the seat himself, squishing against his brother. 

“Color or eat first?” Peter questions. 

“Eat before your food gets cold.” Bucky knows the two can and will get distracted by their own imaginations given the chance. He gets some vague agreeable noises from the three-year-olds as he sets out their little trays of food. The positive of actually eating in means Bucky doesn’t have to make sure ketchup doesn’t end up on everything they own. He keeps finding speckles of dried ketchup on moving boxes.

Harley immediately digs into his meal while Peter starts his usual habit of keeping things from touching each other. Peter looks up from his sorting to eye Harley’s arrangement of tater tots. 

“Harley, can I have some tater tots?” He pauses, adding a very sweet, “ _Please_?” 

Bucky just barely bites back a laugh at Peter’s question, pretending to be very interested in his own meal. Peter has clearly learned from the ‘Tot Incident’ earlier in the week.

Harley huffs a little at the question, squinting at his brother before settling on a simple, “Mmmkay.” 

The blonde picks up a few tots and dropping them into Peter’s tray. “Only for Petey.” The brunette giggles happily leaning over to plant a kiss against Harley’s cheek. 

“None for daddy, huh?” Bucky muses with a quirk of his brow, softening a little at the two boys' easy affection for one another. He’s not interested in tots, mostly just ready to tease his sons just a little. 

“Daddy, you’re big. Peter is small.” Harley states very simply back, adding another tot to Peter’s tray in emphasis. “You’re already big grown-up, we need more than you.” 

“Hugmongus.” Peter adds, fumbling over the word. Harley readily jumps into the fray, happy to echo his twin. 

“Hugmongus extreme.” 

“It's humongous.” He corrects with a chuckle, “Didn’t know I was that big.” 

“You’re the best biggest daddy,” Peter says before popping a tot into his mouth. He speaks as he chews, getting crumbs everywhere. “Love you, daddy.” 

“I love you, but tots are only for me and Peter.” Harley manages to open a ketchup packet for himself, only really getting his fingers and food sticky in the process. “Mostly me though.” 

“They _are_ his tots, daddy.” 

Bucky definitely can’t help but laugh at that, his lips curling into a pleased smile. “I won’t steal the tots, promise.” He's going to enjoy this moment while it lasts. He wants to dwell on _this_ instead of the paranoia that sits at the edge of his mind.


	3. With lungs of stone I forgot to breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this last time, but- 
> 
> I have a writing tumblr if you guys wanna check that out! 
> 
> https://writingwithsonicsora.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> I post snippets there of things I'm working on and answer questions about fics. Feel free to follow if you wanna see what I'm up to.

Montana hadn’t been a terrible place to live, but Bucky couldn’t stand snow. At least not for another couple years. Maybe when the boys are older he’ll go back and pick over a quiet place to live with them. Living somewhere secluded in the mountains sounds like heaven compared to dealing with people regularly. He can’t too willingly inflict that on the twins at the moment. Not when the two would willingly trade him for a tray of chicken nuggets. 

He sure as hell didn’t want to have to find out how to make chicken nuggets himself to retain their loyalty. The modern world is horrifying enough without learning what the hell goes into chicken pieces roughly in a nugget shape. 

“Are we close to California?” Peter questions as he squirms in his spot next to Bucky, peering up at him from under unkempt curls. The question draws Bucky from his thoughts as he looks back down at the two children settled under their blankets. 

“We’re getting there, baby.” He promises, shifting in the driver seat to open the dashboard and pull out a map. Apparently it was old fashioned to use maps these days, but fuck if he wants to deal with a GPS. He unfolds the map carefully, spreading it out to show Peter. The light over the driver's seat is bright enough Peter can easily see the map without much issue. He had left it on out of habit after parking the truck.

“We’re here.” He taps a finger against the border between Idaho and Nevada. He moves his finger across the page to the shape of California. “That’s California.” 

Peter squints at the map. “S’funny shaped.” 

“All states are funny shaped.” Bucky makes a point to outline each shape for Peter’s benefit. The boy’s gaze tracks the movement of his fingers curiously. 

“Flo- flo-” Peter squints at the word on the map. He eventually reaches out to point specifically at Florida. “That one is silly.” 

“The silliest.” Bucky agrees with a smile, feeling his heart warm up a little at the fascination Peter has with traveling. “Maybe one day we’ll see it. Florida apparently has a thing about oranges.” He has a distant recollection of going to Florida a few times, but nothing concrete. The only thing that ever stays in his mind is the kills. He can’t forget that even if he tried. 

Peter hums a little at the thought. “I hope so. I wanna see everywhere with daddy.” 

“Give it time and we’ll go to Europe, kiddo. Maybe Canada.” He wants to avoid any obvious HYDRA hotspots. He distantly remembers a few cities sick with the taint of the organization. He folds up the map, carefully putting back away. “For now, you should get some sleep.” 

“Are you gonna sleep, daddy?” 

“In a bit, baby.” Given they were in a rest stop at the edge of two states, no, he wasn’t. Not that the boys needed to hear that. He could operate on very little sleep easily enough. “I’m just thinking.” 

“Thinking about what?” Peter questions, starting to yawn a little. “...Cookies?” 

His smile takes on an amused edge at Peter’s speculation. “Definitely, cookies. Maybe chicken nuggets.”

Predictably, his toddler brightens at that. “Nuggies are the best.” 

“They are.” He lies easily back, shifting in his seat to kiss the top of Peter’s head. “Have a dream about them, or cookies.” 

“Mhm.” The boy agrees with another yawn as he starts to settle down again. It doesn’t take long for Peter to finally doze off and drop into a full sleep. Bucky chuckles softly as he watches his sons sleep for a moment before his gaze flicks back to the surroundings outside of the truck. The rest stop is in a quiet state between truckers leaving and people on roadtrips appearing to hunker down for a few hours. 

Bucky uses the time to let his mind wander. Occupying his mind isn’t too hard in the moment, not when he gets to think about his children and the place in California he was interested in. Phone calls and the ‘internet’ have given him a decent idea of what he’s coming onto. 

By the time the sun starts to rise over the rest stop, the boys are vaguely stirring and Bucky takes the truck out of park. He takes advantage of the slow early morning traffic to finally cross the border over to Nevada properly. 

He listens to the radio and lets his mind wander. When the boys don’t need him, it's about all he has these days. He’s picking at pieces of himself. Strange thing that don’t quite fit together with what he is now or who he was before HYDRA. 

Seeing more of the world for himself feels like a particularly firm fuck you to HYDRA. He barely knows who he is half the time, but he isn’t what they want him to be. 

He’ll become something, someone for himself. Even if it takes a long time to get there. He just wants his sons to be happy, to be safe as he can make it for them. 

\----

He chews absently as he leans further back into the booth seat. The place is a real hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere, but it's quiet enough that Bucky feels it's safe enough to stop and eat at. The handgun tucked inside of his jacket is enough to offer him added security if he needs to protect himself and the boys. 

His gaze only drifts from the twins tearing into pancakes to eye the old television hanging over the diner’s ‘bar’. The television was muted in favor of the radio playing over the speakers in the ceiling, but he can read the scrawling words under the news report playing. 

Apparently they found the body he threw into the snow a few weeks back, well, what’s left of it. Finding his ID a mile off from the body gave them some inkling of who he was. 

He recognizes the man, now he has an actual name to go with it. Adrian Toomes. The guy looks like a real schmuck. He’d feel bad for the guy’s family if the man hadn’t tried to steal from him. That was his own damn mistake, and he paid for it. 

He twists his fork into his scrambled eggs, bringing the eggs up to his mouth as he turns his attention back to the giggling twins. Peter’s plate is essentially soaked in syrup at this point. He arches a brow back at the two, which prompts Peter to sit up, lifting up one of the small syrup containers set on the table.

“Daddy, they have different-” He pauses struggling on the word for a moment before pushing onwards with a placeholder. “Sugar!”

“Syrup.” Bucky offers easily, starting to smile a little now himself. “I saw, baby. Do you like that kind?” 

“It's purple!” Peter whispers back. 

“No, it's blue!” Harley throws back with an indignant snort. “See!” He pokes at the word ‘blueberry’ written in blocky letters printed out on a cheap label. Peter places the contain back down to squint at it. 

“Its _bluple_.” 

Harley pauses to consider his twins’ words before nodding. “Bluple.” 

Bucky is aware he should probably correct that, but the strangeness of the new word is funny enough he laughs a little into his coffee mug. 

“It’s just blueberry, like Harley said.” He takes a sip of his coffee before setting the mug back down onto the scuffed tabletop. He reaches out a hand to tap against one of the other containers, “This one is, cranberry.” He turns the small syrup bottle around to show the boys the label. He can tell the two are attempting to read the label from the way they squint and mouth letters. 

“Redberry.” Peter states simply enough as his gaze turns back up towards Bucky, not about to budge on what he wanted to call things. 

“Redberry smells gross.” Harley muses as he sticks his tongue out. 

“Cranberry is an acquired taste, baby.” He remembers _ɐɔɔǝq_ hating the damned canned- 

His hand flies to his forehead as he squeezes his eyes tightly shut. His head throbs as he clicks his teeth together. The pain makes his brain feel like it's trying to rattle its way out of his skull. He sinks back into the booth seat, almost wishing he could sink his fingers into his skull to stop everything.

_“C’mon, slowpoke, you gonna keep me waiting?” He laughs, his gaze settling on a little girl glowering at him. Her brown hair was all wild unkempt curls. Their mother’s attempts to tame it hadn’t done much but agitate the beast._

_“I’m not slow!” She throws her arms into the air indignantly as she stomps towards him. “You just have long legs!”_

_“Yeah, yeah, any other excuses, ɐɔɔǝq?”_

_“Give her a break, Buck.” A thin blonde boy sighs lowly back, blue eyes fond as he reaches a hand out to touch the other boy’s shoulder. ǝʌǝʇS smiles at him, arching a brow back at him-_

“Daddy?” Peter’s voice is so small, but it breaks through the fog. Bucky blinks, trying to get his bearings as he looks up. Both boys are staring at him wide eyed, worried and scared. 

He picks out a waitress and the two other patrons in the building looking over at him. He forces a smile onto his face, shooting the waitress an apologetic glance. She raises her phone questioningly, and he waves it off with a smile. She seems unsure, but sets the phone back onto its cradle. 

“Sorry, baby, daddy just had a headache hit him.” He soothes lowly back, forcing himself to sit up. His reassurance is more than enough for the two boys to shuffle out of their side of the booth to scramble onto his side and pile up in his lap. He peppers the top of their heads with kisses, promising he’s more than fine.

“How about we finish breakfast and go get some rest?” He offers, still armful of two anxious boys. 

Peter sniffles, bottom lip wobbling as he looks up at Bucky. “O-okay, daddy.” 

“Are you really okay?” Harley questions, just as scared but buckling down on determined. 

“I’m okay, promise.” He brushes some of Harley’s unruly blonde locks out of his face. “Daddy just needs to eat and he’ll be even better.” He sets both boys next to him on the booth seat, pulling their plates over so they can eat. 

He can feel the two toddlers watching him eat. The two slowly start eating themselves once they are sure he’s actually doing what he said. 

He makes a point to tip the waitress more than he needs to, to hopefully ensure her silence once the boys finish eating. He wouldn’t be surprised if she does call the police in some attempt at helping. People can be too damn noisy for their own good. 

He leads them back to the truck. 

“Not gonna rest-?” Harley questions nervously as he settles down in his usual spot in the moving van. Bucky makes sure the two are safely buckled in and bundled up in blankets before turning his attention to pulling the car out of park. 

“In a bit, baby. We got to find a hotel first.” One preferably _out_ of this county. “I thought it’d be nice to stay in one before bedtime.” Even if he wants to speed the hell out of here, he takes his time to leave the parking lot carefully. He unlocks the truck, whilst the boys talk amongst themselves about syrup. He goes through the motions of a casual father in no real rush. He buckles the boys in as best he can, pressing a kiss against each of their brows before settling into the drivers seat. 

He pulls out of his parking spot carefully, keeping the air of casualness as he drives away from the diner. 

“Really?” Peter pipes up, “Will you take a nap?” 

“Of course, as long as you take a nap with me.” He says softly back as he focuses on traffic ahead, moving to get into the fast lane once he’s sure he’s out of sight of the damn diner. He turns on the radio, picking an ‘oldie’ station out of habit. 

He doesn’t know any of these apparent oldies, so it’s education and distraction in equal measure. The boys seem to settle in at the familiarity of his choices, starting to talk to each other. The two children debate the merits of different syrups. All three syrups that they are aware of. Peter is pro ‘Bluple’, whilst Harley just likes normal syrup. 

Bucky half listens to the discussion as he focuses on the road. His mind is mostly spinning over possibilities of what he’ll do if any officers do try to approach him. He’s armed, but killing police officers is never easy. Kill one, ten more appear. He always tried to avoid dealing with cops for a reason before. 

Usually his handlers would alert any local police involved with HYDRA to keep them at bay. Now, well, now that wasn’t an option. 

Bucky didn’t really want that option ever again. 

He only feels mildly safe once he’s gotten a cheap hotel room and hustled the boys into the room. He blocks up the room, going over every inch of the hotel room to ensure it's secure enough. 

“Daddy! It's nap time!” Peter calls out from one of the twin beds further in the room. “You promised.” Bucky turns to face the twins, smiling a little at the way the two three year olds are burrowed under the blankets already. Harley pulls the blankets back whilst giving Bucky an expectant look. The look alone makes the man chuckle just a little. 

“I did.” He agrees, his smile warming several degrees as he walks over to the bed. He slides out of his shoes, 

Somehow, he isn’t too surprised to find both boys curled up against him in the same bed when he wakes up in the middle of the night. He gives both of the boys a gentle squeeze, peppering their faces with kisses. 

\--

Nevada feels wrong, Bucky can’t put it exactly into words. He does what he can to learn from the feeling, keeping to himself. He trusts his gut for a reason. 

The next few days in Nevada are ones he spends primarily in the truck, wary of actually leaving it much beyond giving the boys breaks. He knows two toddlers can’t stay in a truck all day, so he makes a point to let them stretch and run around enclosed spaces to burn off energy. He angles for quiet spaces where there aren’t likely as many people around _to_ see him. 

He tugs his baseball cap further down his head as he scowls to himself. He stops himself from checking for his switchblade in his pocket. He looks back to the twins as they stare up at him from inside the truck. 

Something here feels worse than usual. The burger joint is quiet, which is what brought him here in the first place. There are only a few people milling around in the building. One person in particular keeps making him tense. He can’t see the man’s face, but something about him is familiar. 

So far, familiar has always been _bad_. 

“Daddy?” Peter questions with a sleepy blink. It isn’t a surprise the boys notice him lingering like this. 

“Daddy took a wrong turn, baby.” He moves to get back into the truck. “Sorry.” He locks the doors behind himself, starting the truck back up without hesitation. 

“S’okay.” Harley offers with a yawn, shifting to cuddle more into Peter. “Mcdonalds. Want nuggies.” 

“Mcdonalds is a perfect idea.” He says casually, pulling out of the parking lot. He flicks his gaze briefly back up at the building’s large glass windows. 

He recognizes the face of a member of HYDRA after a beat. The man never sees him far as Bucky can tell. The man is smiling widely with his little family, his attention focused elsewhere. 

A disquieted kind of feeling pools in his gut as he forces his gaze back anywhere else. He needs to get the fuck out of Nevada. Specifically Thousand Spring. 

The rest of the day is spent driving, Bucky only relaxes marginally by the time he finds himself near Elko. 

\---

He didn’t want to resort to petty theft, but his hand has been pushed. He isn’t made of money. Bucky hates leaving the boys alone more, but he knows his sons are extremely truthful. To the point of likely ratting him out if they saw him doing anything wrong. 

He tucks the two in to the hotel bed, making sure they’re both asleep before he ducks out for an hour. He makes sure to wear something that’s overly normal-looking no one will even look at him twice. His metal arm is obscured with long sleeves and a glove. His hair is jammed haphazardly into an ugly hat he found on the side of the road at some point. 

He’s just another face taking in the sights of Nevada. Just another man to forget. 

A man with seven pilfered wallets by the end of the hour. The money is enough to keep him going for a bit longer. Bucky knows he’ll have to do it again sooner rather than later if he wants to stay flush with cash. Raising kids isn’t cheap. 

He discards the entire wallets into nearby trash cans before taking the long way back to the hotel. He slows and weaves enough to throw off anyone trying to follow him. 

At best he stops by a mcdonalds to buy a soda as a loose excuse of where he went. He knows the two like explanations. The temptation of possibly drinking a soda after bedtime should also be enough for them to not dwell on being left alone.

He half expects to find them gone or the hotel room in a disarray with two panicky toddlers by the time he comes back. 

The boys are still fast asleep. Peter stirs when the door opens. The little brunette squints at him blearily. 

“Daddy-?” 

“Sorry, baby, I went to get a drink.” He waggles the cup vaguely back as he steps fully into the room. He closes the door, smiling a little as he presses a finger against his lips. “If you’re quiet, daddy will let you take a sip.” 

The way Peter’s eyes widen as he nods mutely is enough to nearly make Bucky laugh. He doesn’t let the boys have soda _that_ much, so he knows this is enough of a treat Peter will gladly jump on it. 

Predictably, Harley wakes up from Peter moving around on the bed. The blonde toddler demands a sip of the soda for himself as well. Bucky acts like he’s thinking about it, but readily lets Harley take a sip. 

Harley demands _another_ sip, whilst Peter is a giggly monster next to him in bed. The two toddlers are just excited about the surprise soda more than anything else. 

He’s raising some real punks apparently. 

\---

By the time he hits Unionville on the road, he sorts through what he has, deciding on getting rid of older clothing. Anything he wore earlier on the trip is deposited in a donation box in one homeless shelter whilst he grabs what he can from another. He can’t completely change how he looks, but different clothes is a start. 

If it wasn’t a hassle, he would’ve swapped moving trucks as well. For now, he keeps what he has, not wanting to throw off his vague times table. He wants to get to California by the time spring hits if he’s lucky. He has a place waiting already, he just needs to get there. 

James Coury is a single father moving to California for a new life with his sons. That’s all he’s got to be right now. If he has to, he'll change specifics of who James Coury is, but that will come as it's needed. Peter and Harley are his main priorities. 

He does about the same for the boys' clothing when he hits the next city further off from Unionville. Wadsworth is close enough to the border to California he knows he’ll find at least a few useful things for toddlers. He makes sure to keep their favorites, aware enough the two were already going through enough change as it is. Peter pouts a little, and Harley throws a fit at losing a specific sweater, but animal themed t-shirts are enough to ease fussing to some extent. 

New stuffed animals also help settle the two considerably. Bucky is just relieved the two are still young enough that toys are an excellent bribe to settle nerves. 

He just can’t quite down the lingering paranoia of someone recognizing the twins. 

If HYDRA tried to take them, Bucky isn’t sure what he’d do. If HYDRA hurt his sons, or made him hurt them, Bucky would try to take every last one of them with him. He would find a way to burn all of it down. 

\-----

California is both exactly what he expects and not even remotely what he expects. The warm weather is a relief, as is the lack of snow to come in the next winter. If he managed to stay that long. Bucky wasn’t wholly sure yet. He keeps oscillating on just what he wants. He's gotten everything into the house, gotten the truck out of the way and now all that has he to do is unpack. 

Mostly he’s frustrated at not being able to find anything after unloading the truck. The boys are wandering around the house singing ‘baby shark’ loudly back and forth. It's an easy enough way to track the twins. Both promised they wouldn’t go outside without him, but are happily darting around the place. 

“Ah, hell.” He mutters as he nudges a box forward with the toe of his boot. “Did I…” He doesn’t remember which box has the paperwork in it. “Where in the hell?” Bucky regrets not labeling the boxes more clearly. He hadn’t wanted to make it easy even in theory for someone else to find anything in the boxes. 

“Dadddyyy!” The call is followed by the thundering of footsteps. The brief flash of fear at the call is quashed by the giggling that follows the next call, “Daddy! Daddy look!” 

The two boys run into the room, Harley is holding aloft something in his hands. Peter is just giggling outright, clearly excited. 

It takes Bucky a moment to realize the blonde boy is holding aloft a very unhappy looking lizard. The animal looks frantic, trying to nip at Harley’s fingers, but is held in a way it can’t quite bite. 

“Look, daddy! A lizurd.” Harley says brightly back, unaware of the fact he’s narrowly avoiding being bitten. 

“Her name is lizzy!” Peter all but yells, his sense of volume control completely gone in his excitement. “Look! Look! We found her in bathroom!” 

Bucky grimaces already moving forward to grab the lizard with his metal hand. “Boys.” His tone is enough that the excitement drops from both of their faces immediately. He holds the animal out of range. “Don’t pick up animals you find.” 

Harley scrunches his nose, staring up at the animal. “But she’s a- a- a- house lizurd!” 

“House lizurd!” Peter echoes as he reaches out to try and grab the lizard. Bucky raises his arm a little higher to prevent the toddler from actively reaching the animal. 

“No, boys, she got stuck in here. I’m putting her outside.” He says firmly back, trying to keep some sense of composure at how strange the conversation is. A lizard isn’t the worst thing they could find in the house, but the idea of the two picking up a spider or snake comes to mind. “If you see a wild animal inside or outside, you don’t pick it up. You come get me or leave it alone.” 

“House lizurd…” Peter repeats sadly back, staring up at the lizard. 

“Do you understand?” Bucky repeats a little more firmly, frowning at the twins. “Boys?” 

Both boys all but shrink into themselves, frowning at the floor. Peter crosses his arms tightly over his chest, frowning at his sneakers. Harley looks between Bucky and Peter before his gaze drops back to the floor. 

“...Yes, daddy.” 

“Y-yeah, daddy.” 

Bucky blows out a short frustrated sound, squeezing his eyes shut. “Thank you.” He looks back to the lizard, able to feel it gnawing at his metal fingers desperately, to no real avail. The animal is frantic for freedom, and Bucky can’t blame it. 

“Please stay here while I put this outside.” He states with a slow exhale, trying to battle back an initial rush of guilt for bursting their bubble. He needs to know the two will listen to him. Even if they don’t like it. He needs to know they will be safe. 

He heads out into the front yard, just roughly dropping the lizard on the dried out front lawn on the property. He heads back towards the house. 

It’s a small house, expensive and ugly all at once. It’s also in an alright enough area Bucky won’t have to lurch around at all hours ready to pounce on anyone thinking of breaking in. He is still going to put traps on most of the other doors. Just out of a need to be sure everything is safe. 

He heads back into the house, heading back in the direction of where he left the boys. 

Bucky isn’t too surprised to see Peter pouting on the floor. Harley is seated next to him, rubbing his brother’s back. 

Bucky moves to sink down onto the floor next to the two. He manages to bite back a smile at Peter dramatically rolling away from him, crossing his arms over his chest. Harley looks between them anxiously. 

“Petey, look at me.” He coaxes quietly back, which finally draws the three-year old’s gaze back at him. Peter tries to look angry, but it isn’t sticking quite the way he wants it to.

“I’m sorry I was harsh with you two.” He starts, smiling just a little at how Peter softens at an apology. “Daddy just needs you two to be careful. When I say don’t do something, I want you to listen to me.” 

“Why?” Peter questions with a huff. “I just wanted to see Lizzy!”

“Because, there are big scary things out in the world, boys. If I tell you something is dangerous or bad, I need you to listen to me.” He says carefully, trying to pick his words with care. He doesn’t want to scare the two all that badly. “Daddy wants to keep you both safe.” 

“Lizurds aren’t dangerous, daddy...” Harley offers with a scrunch of his nose. 

“That lizard might have not been, but there could be ones that could hurt you very badly, be poisonous, or have stingers.” He mimes a stinging motion against his own hand. Bucky doesn’t know much about lizards these days, but he would rather be wrong in the moment. “We dunno what a wild animal could do. Or what a stranger could do to you two.” 

“Strangers-?” Harley echoes back, looking to Peter for confirmation. “Like people who aren’t daddy?” 

“Yes. Some strangers can pretend to be nice or know daddy, but actually want to hurt you or me. I want to protect all of us from that.” Bucky says simply back, scooting a little closer to the two. Peter doesn’t try to roll away or sulk, mostly just listening raptly. It is odd to see both boys looking serious, but Bucky is glad they are taking this in. 

“I just want you to listen to me, okay? If you’re not sure, ask questions. I always try my best to answer you.” He coaxes a hand through his hair, sighing as he adds, “Sometimes, if Daddy says it's serious or dangerous, then listen and I’ll answer questions later.” 

The two nod a little, clearly thinking over the information. 

He opens his arms with a quirk of his brow. “Hug?” 

That is as much encouragement as either toddler needs to scoot over, piling into his lap to cuddle into him. Peter tucks his face against Bucky’s chest as Harley clings to him. Bucky is just happy to cuddle his children close, pressing a few kisses against the top of their heads. 

“Daddy, I don’t think lizurds _have_ stingers.” Peter says after a moment, peeking up at him. “That's… buggies.” The correction just makes Bucky smile a little. 

“How about we find a book about lizards and find out, huh?” He brushes back some of Peter’s curls, “There is a library real close. We can go look at it after we unpack.”


	4. You just keep wanting more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i lived bitch_
> 
> also yes, this chapter is here, howdy. Enjoy as the rest of the MCU sneaks up on Bucky having a good time.

Bucky makes it a point to walk to the library every day with the twins until he can find an actual job. Finding a job that won’t ask too many questions isn’t proving quite as easy as he’d like it to be. For now, he’s just going to enjoy the time with his kids. He has enough savings from robbery down the state line to hold them up. If he has to, he’ll break into a few houses in some nicer neighborhoods. He cased out a few places on a whim, so making a plan wouldn’t take too long. 

Bucky is happy library cards aren’t exactly hard to get. An afternoon in the library is one where both toddlers absorb as much information as they possibly can. His assumption the two are going to be smarter than him seems to becoming more and more of a reality. Actual children’s books can only hold their attention for so long. The boys like the pictures, but have more fun making up their own stories. 

He’s half sunk into a beanbag chair with Peter and Harley curled in his lap as he reads aloud to them. He’s already blown through The Hobbit (and understood very little of the damn thing), now he is working his way through whatever book looks interesting enough. Maniac Magee is something the boys liked purely from the cover. The book is written decently enough he’s actually engaged in it himself. 

“S’sad he doesn’t have a daddy,” Peter murmurs as he squints at the pages of the book. Peter can probably read a few words on the page at this point. Bucky knew they were smart three-year-olds. 

“S’sad he’s allergic to pizza,” Harley adds with a scrunch of his nose. “Pizza is the best.” That statement earns an agreeable sound from Peter as the two nestle a little closer into Bucky. 

Bucky snorts a little at the two assessments. “All the adults in this are schmucks.” He taps at the page, “Not a lot of thought in any of their heads.” 

“Aren’t adults smartest?” Peter questions as he peeks back up at Bucky. 

“Not all of ‘em, honey.” He turns the page easily enough. He tucks his thumb against the top of the page to not lose his place. “Some adults you can’t trust cause there isn’t anything between their ears.” 

“Not _even_ a brain?” Harley sounds scandalized by the new information. Bucky can’t help but smile a little. The three-year-olds if anything tend to believe everything they hear until it's disputed in some manner. 

“Not even a brain.” Bucky confirms easily enough, “If an adult makes you feel bad or uncomfortable, tell me. Even if they make hot air about being in charge or knowing me, if you aren’t comfortable, you tell me.” 

“What if, they’re… a police officer, or babysitter, or a teacher?” The boys had watched enough educational television apparently to believe all adults were infallible. Bucky paid as much mind as he could to what they watched, but sometimes he couldn’t help but tune out the mindlessly cheery voices. 

“Don’t care who the hell they are. If they’re starting shit or make you scared, I’ll break their arms.” Bucky says simply enough. “Always tell me if someone tries something.” 

The boys make agreeable noises as they cuddle into Bucky. Harley breaks the brief quiet to murmur, “Would their arms go crunch like cereal?” 

Bucky’s brows furrow a little, “Depends on the bones. If they’re brittle, it’d be real crunchy.” 

“Crunch, crunch, crunch.” Peter mumbles, making a squishing gesture with his hands. 

“It’d be more of a snap, sweetie.” He corrects, making a motion with his free hand. The boys try to mime the gesture with no real success. When they're old enough he'll correct their form. For now, there are more important things to consider. “Do you want me to finish this chapter?” 

“Yes, please!” 

“Mhmm!” 

Bucky presses a kiss against the top of each boy’s heads before he picks back up on reading in a low tone. They manage to finish the rest of the book in that afternoon, before leaving to get pizza for lunch. 

Bucky isn’t completely unaware a librarian is giving him the stink eye. He just smiles with more teeth than necessary back at her. The woman drops her gaze immediately. 

He isn’t too surprised when the woman gives him a wide berth every time he comes back to the library. He’s sweet as sugar to every other librarian working there to just ensure the woman can’t try to get rid of him. It would be a real shame if he had to bring murder into a nice place like this.

\---

He manages to find a job as a line cook in a cheap take out place a few miles from their home. It took longer than he liked, but he only had to break into one house in the interim. 

Bucky might have hammed it up and used a heavy Romanian accent for effect, but it works. They hire him for obnoxiously early morning shifts on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Once the boys are in bed, he can leave to walk there. 

That suits Bucky just fine. He can play clueless foreigner as the people flap their mouths around the restaurant. He keeps his head down, he follows directions and no one looks at him twice. He after all is paid under the table. He just pretends he can’t speak that much English to avoid much conversation with anyone. 

He isn’t thrilled to leave his sons alone, but the early am shifts are short enough they sleep through him being gone. By the time he gets home, he just curls up on the floor of their shared bedroom. Bucky just wants to be sure he can reach out to both boys. 

By the time he wakes up again, both boys are plastered to him on the floor fast asleep. When Harley wakes up, the boy usually complains about the lack of actual tater tots Bucky has. Bucky just peppers both boy’s faces with kisses until the topic disappears from their minds. Breakfast certainly helps things along.

He might make a point to swipe some tots and fries when no one is looking to smuggle to his sons. They don’t exactly pay him a liveable wage, so fuck them. 

Once he actually has enough money, he hires a babysitter who no one would miss if they tried anything with his sons. 

The woman is a delight. An old woman obsessed with playing cards and singing obnoxious show tunes at volumes only toddlers can appreciate. She brings over new VHS's for the boys to watch. Bucky learns to quietly hate Hello Dolly. 

It's strange to find a new normal, but he will enjoy it while it lasts. 

He's sure he'll get the itch to leave soon enough. Bucky knows he can't stay in one place too long.

\---

A sheet cake might be a bit too much. His grip tightens at the edge of the plastic case of the cake as he stares down at it. The edges of the cake are piped with white thick frosting and dotted with rainbow confetti. Curly pink and blue writing is smack dab in the middle of the white cake. Hard plastic balloons are jabbed into the cake next to the names and look likely to fall. 

_Happy Birthday 4th, Peter and Harley!_

Fuck it, he’s seen his sons’ demolish more food in one sitting than he suspects is normal. He’s never raised kids before, so he’s just guessing at this rate. 

They’ve earned this cake. His babies were only going to turn four once. They had managed to stay in California for a few months, so it was worth the birthday celebration. He makes sure to cover the cake when he brings it over to the shopping cart. Both boys are more fascinated with the doughnuts on display than what Bucky is doing. Birthday or not, shopping is shopping. 

“C’mon, boys, let's keep moving.” He reaches out to ruffle both of their hair fondly. “My birthday boys.” 

“Birthday boys!” 

“Yeah! We’re big boys!” 

The two eagerly walk with him, holding onto the cart occasionally for balance. Bucky finds himself smiling at the sight. 

He remembers when the two couldn’t even walk. Now they were little people. 

“Daddy, are we inviting Mrs. Hoffenson for birthday?” Harley questions as he peers up at Bucky from his spot near the front of the shopping car.

“She had her bridge club today, baby.” He answers simply enough, “I’ll be sure to save her something for when she babysits you next.” 

“Save her cookie.” Peter shakes the bag of cookies in his grasp. Shockingly the four-year-old has more restraint than half the people they’ve walked by. Bucky isn’t even sure how or why Peter is so responsible. 

“We’ll save her a cookie.” Bucky agrees. “Can I put the bag in the cart, Petey?” 

Peter considers it before nodding, he offers out the bag. Bucky hums his thanks as he accepts it, placing the bag into the cart. He’ll need both boys hands free in a moment.

He slows them to the aisle full of junk, toys, whatever else the grocery store couldn’t put anywhere else. The boys stop with him, giving him a curious look. 

“You can pick one toy each.” An actual toy store was over his price range. He also didn’t want to even go near one given the larger amount of screaming children. “Has to be a toy, alright?” 

Both four-year old's' eyes go comically wide before they share a glance, and turn to dart down the aisle. They bumble into each other, but Peter is quick to help Harley steady out. 

“No running!” He calls out, laughing a little as he cradles his face in a hand. He straightens up after a moment to push the cart after the two. He can see both boys, so he isn’t too worried. 

Bucky makes a point to grab the obnoxious eyesore that is that some Lisa Frank activity books nearby. He grabs some new crayons as well. He absolutely hates the ugly things, but he knows the boys love it. He’ll have to deal with this ugly rainbow vomit later when he wakes up covered in the stickers, but it will be worth it. He hides it under the rest of the groceries best he can. He glances up, glad the twins haven’t noticed why he was taking so long. 

He isn’t surprised to see both are picking over their options seriously. Peter reads the boxes, only stumbling over a few words and looking to Harley for correction. His twin is quick to offer help. 

His kids are going to outsmart him soon enough. Hopefully, by the time they are teenagers, they won’t hate his guts. He isn't sure if he could handle that. 

Eventually, Harley turns around holding up a doll. “Can I have it, daddy?” 

He squints at the box, not too fond of how the doll apparently doesn’t have a face. Though that seems to be the point. “Sure, baby. That would be fun to play with.” Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever understand modern toys. 

“You drawed her face on!” Harley points at the markers within the box, more than happy to explain the toy completely. “That- that's why she called What’s Her Face! She’s- Glam!” He squints at the box again before rattling off what he can read from it. 

Peter is holding his own box, “Can I have this?” The boy had equally aimed for the same kind of toy. Another one of those Whats Her Face’s, be it a pinker one. 

Bucky nods easily, “Of course you can. Are you two going to swap around the parts to play with?” 

Apparently the idea had not occurred to either of them given the way Peter and Harley’s eyes widen. 

“If you share, you’ll get more for each doll.” He offers, trying to not laugh. “See, it should fit the same.” He moves around the cart to tap at the front of the dented plastic. 

“Daddy, you… have a _big_ brain.” Peter says quietly back, which makes Bucky laugh again. “Thank you, baby.” He motions for the boys to put the toys in the cart. They do so, very careful with their new toys. For the rest of the trip he loads up on everything else they need so the boys lose focus on their birthday. 

He sends the two off within sight to stare at a display of flowers as he checks out, telling the woman at check out he’s trying to hide the cake and lisa frank monstrosity. He calls the boys back once he’s sure that much is hidden. 

“Here, you two carry your toys, Daddy can carry everything else.” He passes the two bags with their dolls and some loose crayons back to them. Neither notice the addition of crayons, just babbling excitedly about their toys as they walk with Bucky. Bucky tries to make it a _quick_ walk given the fact the August heat is going to melt the damn cake. 

The excited squealing over a cake and activity books is more than worth it once they get home. Bucky cuts them each a slice, making sure the two eat at a relatively decent pace before another slice is doled out. 

Sure the cake _is_ a little melted, but, the boys don't even care.

\---

As he expected, he wakes up covered in stickers, two toddlers curled against his side. The two smell distinctly like cake even after a bath. He half wonders if they made a night time escapade to steal cake from the fridge. He should ask about it, but, Bucky can't find the energy to really _care_ that deeply about cake theft. It is their cake after all.

He wraps his arms around the two, just holding them close. “Don’t grow up too fast on me…” He murmurs quietly to the sleeping four-year-olds. 

This is everything he wants. All Bucky can do is hope it will last. Even if he has to work at a shitty job, he'll do anything for these damn kids.

\--- 

“Why the hell does the name Stark sound so familiar…?” He muses warily as he flattens out a newspaper under his hand. The crumpled newspaper left out in the break area of his job has seen better days, but he can still read it. 

_TONY STARK ABDUCTED IN AFGHANISTAN_

The press photo of the man in the suit doesn’t make the connection any clearer. Tony Stark looks like any other rich schmuck he’s seen. 

He skims the article best he can given the coffee stains scattered across the page. Bucky grunts a little tiredly, before drawing his hand back to stand to his full height. He dusts his hands off his apron before sliding it off. He resists his urge to bundle it up and throw it directly at the fryer. 

He haphazardly hangs it on a nearby hook before he goes to clock out. He grunts goodbye in Romanian, but no one else notices him. He has been here long enough people know the act he’s put on. 

He makes the long walk home in the early morning, half wonders just who the man is. The name feels familiar enough he can’t quite shake it for the walk. The cold air bites at his bare face, a grounding reminder as the rest of the world wakes up around him. He has bigger things to worry about than some rich asshole.

He lets himself into his home, kicking off his shoes by the front door. He goes through the process of bolting the door, locking everything down. Two years in one place is a new record, but he’s made enough of a home to not worry about it too deeply. He knows all the windows are bolted shut still, and the boys have the number to the shitty restaurant he works at if something goes wrong. Both also know where his handgun is, if they really need to defend themselves.

He rubs at his face as he walks into his sons' room. The six-year-olds are both fast asleep in their beds. He snorts quietly at the sight of a pillow left out for him. Bucky lays on the floor, settling down for the next couple of hours. When his sons are up, he’ll be up. 

He lets the thought disappear completely as he falls asleep. The soft sounds of his sons’ breathing is more than enough to lull him to a comfortable sleep.


End file.
